Lost
by Sera22
Summary: Involuntarily involved in a mission of a certain assassin one gets easily lost. AltairOC
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: __The first part of my story, now revised by my wonderful beta Alice Under Suspicion. Thank you so much for your help!_

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It is my first little one shot about Assassin's Creed. It takes place before the Majd Addin assassination in Jerusalem but is also slightly AU.

Any comments requested.

Lost.

Oh, how I hate those nights. Grimy fingers pry on my dress; tear at my flesh, leaving bruises for me to remember. Every day after those nights I swear to myself to fight the next time, but I end up over and over again only standing here in his chambers, let him do what he desires.

My fear of what is to come if I resist is bigger than any power I may possess to rise up against him.

Still standing in the middle of his bed-chamber with this huge bed to my left side I try to look outside the window in front of me while he strokes my neck and hair all the way smearing it with his filth with the help of his filthy digits.

I think myself into another time and place, I can tell that this is working since I only recognize what he did the day after when I can actually see it on my skin and feel it through my body.

The more these nights appear the more I lose myself in this never-ending world in my mind where I can find refuge. Sometimes I have a hard time to find my way back out of this soothing state of mind. Reality is much more aggravating…I try to avoid it for as long as I can.

There is no other way to flee. No physical one. He leads me to the bed all the way mauling my body with his mouth. Roughing up my sensitive skin at my bare shoulder he pushes me down. I play along to the extent I am able, breathing a sigh when the moon comes back in sight due to my sadly familiar position on the bed.

Distracted by my only witness I forget to slide smoothly and quietly into my own world blanking out everything around me. I swallow and try to concentrate on the lightened gate I can see when I close my eyes but it seems as if it is taunting me, moving away from me, so I will never be able to reach it in time. For dear life I begin to 'run' to the imaginary gate but I am left desperately trying to suppress the pain he inflicts on the lower part of my body. His heavy chest isn't leaving me much room to breath, his own breath is labored, and his sweat is sticking to the parts of me he is holding to.

In an instant I realize sadly that my sanctuary does not protect me from his lust tonight.

I hear myself whimper when he seizes me by my hair narrating his next gruesome actions.

To much for me to bear I turn my head to the side, totally overcome by the violating sense of defeat and helplessness. Suddenly it seems even the moon has left me. Feeling completely imprisoned in a futile fight I let one silent tear run down my cheek.

But I realize shortly after that the moon is not leaving me on my own! He was there, all of the time. He only was hidden. Concealed and kept from being seen.

By a figure standing next to the bed.

Completely taken aback I suck in a sharp breath of air, clawing at my horrid burden, but my exertion isn't noticed, at least not by the man ravaging me. Engrossed in his torture my struggling is escaping his notice entirely.

When a gleaming piece of metal comes in my field of vision I go mad with fear scratching like a wild animal at the back and arms I am able to reach.

"Yousra! What are you—" I close my eyes awhile, awaiting the blow I became wordless for a long time now but all of a sudden it is quiet again.

There is nothing more to feel than the tingling sensation of a warm liquid dripping on my bare neck and breasts. In the dark of the night I can only assume it is his blood which leads me to shudder violently.

My spirit comes back to life in fear of drowning in the thick bleeding. In shock I push forcibly against the dying man but to no avail.

When hearing a gurgling sound coming from the throat directly above me, I fight a wave of nausea, thrashing my head from side to side uncontrollably.

Finally! I am able to raise my chest, my lungs eagerly accept the fresh air. New energy is filling my organism now that the weight of the body is gone unforeseen. Propping myself on my elbows I wheeze with difficulty, watching the hooded figure how he hauls the dead body down next to the bed with a groan of abhorrence.

With one last look at the bloodied face, I suppose to make sure his iniquitous act was successful, he loosen his grasp on my master's hair and lets go of his head which lands with a sickening thud on the floor.

As I lift my eyes to meet with the intruder's, his stance stiff , I assume it was a sort of fighting stance, I frown with eyes half-closed. There is nothing more visible. Certainly unaffected by the recent events the moon is shining brightly through the window and is casting a shadow over the spot where I imagine the face of the figure.

I am paralyzed. I don't know what to do. Should I call the guards for help? It feels as if the time has stopped and he is standing there now for ages. I am feeling helpless again, but not in the way before, not anymore.

My rapidly beating heart is screaming at me. _Faith or luck, all or nothing. Nobody is deciding for you._ I fall out of my state of shock into an obvious one.

While I grant myself the luxury of a self-absorbed immobility, he kneels and I am able to catch him wipe his knife on the robe of the corpse.

Observing his deadly instrument is enough for me to snap to attention. _Do something!_

One could say I am a runner, not a fighter, so I change my half-laying, half-sitting position on the bed to one facing the door, scrambling on my hands and knees all the way entangling myself in those damned bed sheets.

Losing time due to these foolish antics I become aware of a hand taking quick and forcible possession of my ankle all the way yanking my outstretched form back towards him.

Mourning in pain I turn around flinging and dashing my arms in despair against him, but failing miserably. My hair is wildly spilling in my face giving me a hard time identifying my surrounding in the near pitch-black room furthermore. Almost straddling me he gains his position of advantage and control not least because he grips my wrists with one arm and suppressing my scream of terror with the other.

Suddenly I feel light-headed and it becomes difficult for me to focus. Everything is spinning; the blood rushes through my ears while a humming sound is soothing me into nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC.  
A/N: Want to thank my beta for this part: Nevar23

Found.

I had a strange dream last night. It felt as if my world was turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

My life could have been considered normal, characterized by an ordinary progression and a permanent average state, including rough handling and even beating, abuse and molestation by my master and his minions, but to put it bluntly, one learned to adapt over the years. You simply adjust yourself to the day's different conditions, being the slave that you are.

I had found a way to carry on though. Even if I can't remember my mother very well, I know she always used to say "If you need a helping hand, look first at the end of your own arm!" And I have lived that advice.

Nothing more than my own imagination helped me during times when I could have vomited right next to my master, so offended were my senses and feelings.

It all started with my first involuntary abortion.

I remember only lying on that filthy cot in a dimly lit room I did not recognize, my arms and legs strapped. Several humans stood around me, talking without cease, but I could not understand a single word. I heard a faint sound of a horrible scream and the room became suddenly bright as day.

I swear an angel watched over me. He led me to a shining, inviting gate of the finest metal, gracefully shaped with intricate details and overhung with ivy.

And all I knew was serenity.

With time I became very proficient at visiting this place of inner contentment and used it whenever it seemed necessary, which was frequently. It was very comforting.

Maybe this is why I have not lost my mind yet. Or why I have not sacrificed my body to the Almighty and let my spirit live on forever in peace.

I do not know what came over me last night. So I am at a loss what to do. And I wonder whether God has left me now, left me to deal with everything on my own. _But why now, of all times?_

The question echoes through my mind, the reflections of unreal sound waves causing a continuous pain in my head. I dare not to open my eyes, afraid of what I might perceive with them.

In my semiconscious state I missed where the guards took me to, and what they did to me. I know that this place is dark and muggy, the floor is profoundly decayed and disgusting, I can't discern all the different smells of liquids which have immersed themselves in the wooden floor and ruthlessly destroyed it.

When I move I feel a new pain in my back and thighs, much more intense than I am accustomed to, even after all these years of mistreatment. I know the pain is something real and unfortunately has verifiable existence. So I do not move at all. I become lost in thought, and lose the sense of time entirely.

An unspecified period of time passed, then suddenly it all crashes in, causing me to gasp audibly. I remember it all. The death of my master, the overpowering fear of that strange man, the guards coming for me while I squat in the corner of the bedroom instilled with intense terror.

_If_ this all has happened, _if_ this man was real, then _why…_

A cracking sound jolts me out of my thoughts and into reality. I still refuse to open my eyes even as I feel somebody hauling me to my unsteady feet.

Unlike yesterday when I actually had a spark of courage to fight back or even fend the attacker off, today I am wretched to the core.

Thoroughly sick and faint from hunger and pain I drift off once more into an uneasy suffering.

_Change POV_

I am honest. Two nights ago I didn't waste a second thought on her.

Totally absorbed into my assassination of Talal, the slave trader of Jerusalem, I was glad to have the opportunity to stealth assassinate him in his most private quarters.

I prefer to work in secrecy. Without an audience.

My plan was well prepared: find him at his home, located in the rich district of the city, explore the place where he lives avoiding his followers and most of his guards, take his life. Very simple.

But he made it difficult for me. First I could not manage to reach him through the huge house. I lost track of him several times. This very night he took a different route to a different wing, where scouting guards blocked my path to him and would not allow my progress. Fortunately I do not depend on hallways to reach a certain room. I only need an ordinary balcony.

As I finally made it to the room unnoticed, I was rewarded. Talal's sexual appetite cost him his dear life, eventually providing the perfect distraction for my work.

The rest was posing no difficulty as usual. Except for her.

This woman was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time! And I gave a damn about her fate.

In hindsight, I should have acted differently, should have waited till he was done to start with, should have… but being glad that she passed out, which precluded her from running to the door and letting hell and guards loose, I selfishly pushed the thought aside that she would probably be held responsible for the death of her master.

So I left.

In that moment I had forgotten one simple fact: Majd Addin was a mad torturer.

That alone would not result in a problem set for solving. But the knowledge of how he savored inflicting pain and most likely would force anyone to execution if only to make an example for the murder of his associate partner Talal. Not being able to eliminate or even detect the true killer, he picked the next one obtainable within his reach.

He picked _her._

Being Saladin's Regent of Jerusalem, Majd Addin ensured that his citizens would follow the conditions of legislative order. His order. The equally famous and infamous public trials were representative of him controlling and taking the lives of others unpredictably. Apart from that he was merely a pitiless monster, piously sure of his own righteousness.

Now here I am, observing the execution stage and surroundings from a canopy above. I notice the woman's poor health and distressed condition from being tied to one of the execution posts, while Majd Addin is crying out his foul doctrines towards his audience, unaware of the danger circling him in an invisible veil.

The woman's head hangs down. I can tell she is barely able to maintain her position, supported only by the tight restraints. I didn't even recognize her at first due to her miserable appearance.

Her once flawless hair the color of dark wood is now disorderly and dirty. The ragged clothing are barely enough to cover her fragile form, so I am witness to the many bruises and cuts, even making out one sizable unhealthy discoloration on the right side of her face. She has been through a two tough days, to say the least.

With these troubling thoughts on my mind I shake my head. I stop fuelling the doubts gnawing away at me and swear violently, fully aware of the fact that there is no other chance for her to survive even one more day if she is not rescued here and now.

One last time I check the two comrades Malik provided for the rescue of our captured brother. When I see them turned to their directed posts, I wait for the perfect time to make my deadly move.

I advance on Majd Addin the moment I decide against seeing through my actual mission in favor of risking death to all.

The moment his guards spot me near the stage everybody with a knife or blade, no matter how blunt, is charging me.

I effortlessly cut down everyone who is between me and my target, the sudden and often violent release of blood seems never-ending, I attack and counter constantly, relishing in the fear I see in my enemy's eyes.

The remaining guards are now either too frightened to attack or are holding their bleeding limbs or other body parts in pain, eyeing me suspiciously.

Turning away, I try to catch a glimpse of Majd Addin, but he is nowhere to be seen.

The terrified people move around the place at top speed, which makes it even harder for me to spot him. Uttering a curse under my breath, I move back to the execution stage.

The woman has not moved in the slightest. Probably passed out iagain/i, I find myself thinking of her coldly, my bad mood finally starting to get the better of me.

Suddenly I am undecided. What will Malik think if I bring her to the bureau?

My lack of certainty leads me to hesitate. In that misguided moment I fail to notice a newly arrived troop of guards with Majd Addin in the rear, shouting commands furiously. Again a fight turns into a slaughter, one I now perfom more effectively because I don't lose track of Majd Addin this time.

In the corner of my eye I see her next to me. I did not realize the course I had taken during the second fight. Suddenly the only sound I can hear is her pained whimper and I feel caged. Lost in the desire to free her, I uncharacteristically overlook the assassination target, which almost leads to a downfall for all of us.

All of a sudden Majd Addin speedily pushes forward to the woman, daring to threaten her with one of his golden knives and an evil grin on his face.

He dares to think he can take her hostage after I have slain almost every single man of his?

With new-found strength she thrashes against her restraint wildly and I fight the urge to make her stop in fear she could harm herself with her movement.

Sensing my companions flanking me, my sight flashes back to a now slighly disheveled Majd Addin in front of me. He watches and glances, agitated, switching his attention between us and the crowd in disapproval, their cries yet filled with horror, rushing around the place.

I regain his full attention with one low confrontation: "Ala Rislek."

The two of them look back at me: one face full of disbelief, the other full of aggravation.

Locking the woman's body back into submission by pulling her neck with a forcefully clamped arm, the fool crushes her windpipe, making her choke in despair. When he raises the knife to her throat, she jerks back in shock as it nicks her skin, small trickles leaving a bloodied track.

I can tell she has not yet given up because even in her restricted condition he has a hard time restraining her.

"You filthy whore, stop it!" he crows, entirely annoyed, emitting spittle full force.

It is the perfect time to move. Striding towards him in one swift forward motion, I kick him in the stomach, flooring him. I deprive him of his one chance to scramble back to his feet as I ram my hidden blade into his throat mercilessly.

* * *

Translation: "Ala Rislek" means "Stop!"

I hope you like it. Please leave a comment!


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